


Mi flaco

by AgenteYumi



Series: And even if it takes my life I will not stop loving you [2]
Category: Coco (2017), Coco - Fandom, Coco pixar
Genre: F/M, I really wanted to start the smut on this fandom but I just suck at it, but fluff anyway, somewhat smutty?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgenteYumi/pseuds/AgenteYumi
Summary: It was the perfect ending of a story that they followed since they were small kids, Imelda -always singing on her way to the marketplace to buy the breakfast- and Hector -who made songs about how much he wanted to have vacations already and how much he hated to do homework- and the town wished that those two souls that loved music that much to be bonded forever





	Mi flaco

**Author's Note:**

> Again, english is not my first language so if I made any mistake, please tell me.  
> The title of this work is based on Mon Laferte's song "Mi flaco" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtZlp9V7Woc)  
> A translation is providen on the notes at the end.

While they were placing the veil upon her head and adjusted the dress to make sure she couldn’t breath and eat not even a grain of rice on the party, her mother, her grandma, her aunts and even her married cousins  gave her lots and lots of advice for her married life, mostly for that thing she had heard only on whispers since she was a child and that night she will finally know what was all the fuzz about.

“And you must use the white nightgown that your aunt brought you from Mexico’s city” her mother finished the discusion. “There you are, a bride on white. As it must be”.

And all her court crossed their hands upon their chest or at one side of her faces to admire her.

Imelda though on that moment that she haven’t heard anything of what they told to her, thinking more about if Hector would be using that beautiful brown charro suit that made her lose her head and if Ernesto, his best man, would be on time.

They had decided to keep the wedding as something intimate and just invite their families, their goodparents* and a few friends of Hector and Imelda, but still half of the town was outside the church with rice. It was the perfect ending of a story that they followed since they were small kids, Imelda -always singing on her way to the marketplace to buy the breakfast- and Hector -who made songs about how much he wanted to have vacations already and how much he hated to do homework- and the town wished that those two souls that loved music that much to be bonded forever. It was their telenovela,decades before those started to exist on every television and decades before someone knew what television was.

“Long live to the newly married!” everyone yelled after they leaved the church. So many rice upon their heads seemed the announcement of a long life together, full of songs, love and prosperity.

The party was full of joy. Ernesto couldn’t stop flirting with the cousins of them both while he singed, one of Hector’s spinster aunts caught the bouquet and one of the youngest cousins of Imelda caught the garter.

Then the night came and all the women dragged Imelda, took her to the bedroom chosed for the ocasion, took her veil, tousled her braids, undressed her and made her wear the famous nightgown from Mexico’s city, they said it was silk.

“Mama! I’m going to be cold with this thing! It’s almost translucent!” the bride grumbled “Gimme my flanell nightgown!”

“No!  _Taruga_ , that’s the tradition!” and they leaved her alone on the bedroom.

The best quilt, a quilt white and with flower embroidered on it, was upon the bed. Upon the quilt there were rose petals. Also there were some candles lighting the room and a bottle of tequila. She noticed that there were two  _caballitos_ , not just one. “Ah, so today I can drink, right?” Imelda thought with sarcasm,  remembering the times that they said that she couldn’t drink  _because she was a lady._

She looked herself at the mirror. For God’s sakes, she looked more naked than dressed with that thing, it barely covered her knees. She heard some laughs outside, Hector protesting, Ernesto laughing his hat off and suddenly the door opened, everyone pushing  her husband inside, stumbling until he could reach the bed and gained some control. The door closed behind him and they put the bar.

“It would be better if you don’t come out from there until you have your own mariachi, Hector!” Ernesto yelled, everyone laughed and continued with the party.

“Son of a…!” Hector came back to the door and started to  try to open it but stopped at the sight of Imelda. The moonlight filtered on the curtains gave her an angelical halo. Her brand new husband almost dropped his jaw. She turned red as a tomato.He took off the jacket of his suit and if it was posible to die of shame, Imelda didn’t wanted to know. One for one the words that she though that she didn’t heard came back to her memory. Specially the explanation of what were going to happen that night.

“Look,  _mija,_  you see. He will try to put inside of you that thing that the men use to do  _peepee_  and you must left him to do that. Don’t say anything, don’t do anything, just lay down and, I don’t know, pray the rosary or sing whatever you want while he does the thing” her mother explained.  
“Hector is almost a skeleton, he’s going to pinch her whenever he’s upon her” one of her cousins laughed.  
“Well, we’re going to see if he’s so good to touch other things as he touches the guitar” said another aunt. “You’re lucky,  _mija,_  they say that the musicians are good for that”.  
“Shht! She’s a respectable lady. Only whores can find joy on that things. And men, obviously but it’s not okay” said her grandma.

The bride turned around, trying to hide her shame. Hector took her by her shoulders.

“Hey, don’t be afraid, _corazón mío_ ” he whispered at her ear, giving her shivers. “If you’re not feeling ready for tonight, then it’s okay”

“You want to” she repplied, trying to call her strenght back. They tried some things before, their scapades to the forest or the lagoon weren’t so innocent, but they never took her clothes off or got their hands under the clothes, afraid of being discovered by Ernesto or the twins.

“Why tell you lies, I want.” he answered, shrugging.

“Then let’s do this, and let’s see what’s all the fuzz about” her voice full of decision just made the groom get more nervous.

“No, no, if you are not feeling ready I don’t want to pres…” he couldn’t finish the phrase because Imelda kissed him with all the passion she used to sing. Not so long before the entire charro suit was on the floor.

They told her to stay still and let him do everything but if the kisses could leave marks on the skin, Hector would be of another color at the next morning. They told her that only the whores, those poor women that gave Imelda lots of pity because they weren’t guilty of anything, liked what she was doing with Hector. Well, she will be one then. Hector didn’t minded. He never wanted Imelda to be “a proper lady” and he couldn’t care less.

At dawn they both were cuddling together. Tired but happy.

“So many fuzz for this. It wasn’t that bad” she laughed, so tired to laugh as always anyway. “Let’s go, I’m hungry and it smells like they brought chilaquiles”

They got dressed, laughing about why could they be ashamed of being seen naked by the other if the night before they saw everything.  He helped her with the corset and she made his cravatte. Everyone cheered when they leaved the bedroom. Aparently the party continued all night long and they didn’t noticed.

Years before, when the life took him away from her, sometimes on the cold and lonely nights on her bed, Imelda remembered the nights at her husband’s side, his hands upon her skin with a tenderness that not even his guitar knew and the mornings seein him sleeping, cuddling with her, caressing his hair and putting in order the thoughts from which will be born themost beautiful songs that Mexico would hear, but with other name and other voice singing them.

How much she missed her  _flaco_ those times. Not for the pleasure, but the feeling that the world became smaller at her side and was only the place where they both were and the only melody that they wanted to hear was their hearts beating together.

And the days after those nights, she blowed the hammer harder than other times, trying to dissapear for once and at all what he left on her body and on her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> 1- On the catholic wedding tradition -at lest in Mexico-, we have goodparents for everything: a bible, prayers (they’re supposed to be a marriage that you admire andhave as your goals on marriage), bouquet (that’s just a single woman), lasso (on a certain part of the mass they put upon you and your wife/husband a lasso to symbolize that you’re know together forever and ever), sometimes of pillow (because the reclinatories to pray are harsh for the knees and you spend a good portion of the wedding on your knees), rings, “arras” (thirteen golden coins, symbolizing prosperity for the newly wed) and, because Mexico, we can even have goodparents for everything for the party: napkins, alcohol, photographs, music…  
> Your goodparents, on mexican tradition, become your “compadres” or “comadres”, very close friends and they’re supposed to help you during your married llife. We don’t have really a best man/maid of honor tradition but I guess Hector decided to give some position to Ernesto -because usually the goodparents are married couples, only the bouquet goodmother is supossed to be single-, because #bestfiesforever.  
> 2- I wanted to translate taruga to “silly” -which would be somewhat close- but it didn’t felt right. So I left it as it is.  
> 3- Flaco is literally “thin man” but it’s also a term of endearement (similar to honey or dear), specially if the person is, well, flaco.  
> 4- At one moment I though about taking a tradition that was usual on the time where I suppose that Hector and Imelda lived (late years of the 1910 decade), which was the prima nocte but with a local variation. People thought that the bride's virginity was dangerous for the groom so someone had to take it. I thought about Ernesto but the idea of Imelda realizing that the person who killed her beloved husband was the same who touched her for the first time was just downright fucked up. So... no.  
> Anyway, just as as a curious fact, Pancho Villa killed a lot of rich men for using this right with the women working on the Haciendas. One of them tried to rape her sister, Martina.  
> Althought if someone wants to make another one shot with Hector trying to stop someone to make valid the prima nocte right with Imelda, I'm not going to stop them.
> 
>  
> 
> \---------------------------
> 
> Mi flaco.  
> -Mon Laferte
> 
> Who is going to loveyou  
> As much, as much as I do?  
> I like to wake up  
> And see you on your sleep.
> 
> But I’m far away and I’m sad.  
> I want to hug you  
> And get tangled up on you
> 
> It’s raining.  
> I remember taht time  
> I can’t sleep  
> What’s the use for this country  
> If I can’t laugh with you  
> Or make love to you.?  
> I miss you  
> Mi flaco  
> Rains and rains in my heart  
> All this white perturbates me.  
> And privates me from reason.  
> Rains and rains and I miss you more  
> It hurts so much, so much to love you  
> On lonelyness
> 
> And who is going to love me   
> So much, so much as you do?  
> And who is going to deal with me  
> so calmly as you do?  
> I imagine your hair down.  
> I remember you upon my body.  
> I miss you, mi flaco.


End file.
